Sittin' On the Countertop
by Contrary-Miss-Mary
Summary: There were a great many things England understood. Seychelles was not one of those things. Seychelles/England. One-shot.


England came home from the world meeting feeling more discouraged then when he left. The other countries could be such idiots. Especially that obnoxious twat America, and the ever-flamboyant France...

England sighed and let himself into the house. He received a far from warm welcome when he opened the door. There, sitting on his beautiful marble countertop was Seychelles, the most disagreeable country England had ever dealt with.

She was eating an apple and reading some kind of novel , most likely romance due to the provocative image on the cover.

" Get off the counter, it's new," England said , slipping off his jacket and placing it on the coat rack.

" I'd rather not," she stated dully, flipping the page without even bothering to look at him.

England slowly turned around.

" Maybe you didn't hear me clearly enough. . My. Countertop."

Seychelles simply took another bite of her apple. " Maybe you didn't hear ME clear enough. No. Thank. You."

This defiance was more than enough to fuel his awful temper. "GET THE BLOODY HELL OFF MY COUNTERTOP!" he shouted.

Seyechelles kept reading her book. "Calm down, Eyebrows. Let me do my own thing."

" You don't have the right to 'do your own thing'," he seethed.

She shot him a sideways glance. "Why not? I'm a free country, aren't I?" Her hand instinctively flew to the collar around her neck. When Seychelles had first met England, he had slapped it on her and declared her his colony.

She sighed deeply before putting her stuff down. " Why do I have to move?" she pouted, scooting forward so she could jump off.

" It is important for a young lady to learn proper discipline," he responded, giving her his hand to help her down.

"I'll show you proper discipline," Seychelles , shoving him away. Or at least she tried to, because the second she stretched out her arms and leaned forward , she fell off his precious countertop.

Thankfully, England caught her before she could fall to the ground. He shifted his footing slightly to support the sudden increase in weight. He looked back up and his eyes were instantly caught in her intense gaze. He could feel himself growing more uncomfortable by the second.

Finally, Seychelles broke the silence.

" Do you hate me?"

" Not at all, it's just that-"

She instantly cut him off.

"But you don't like me..." England must have turned a deep shade of red, because she continued,"... Do you?"

England suddenly became extremely aware of the awkward position they were in. Seychelles had one hand on his chest with the other draped around his neck, while one arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, the other hugging her thighs.

" I don't know what you mean..." he murmured turning his face away. He felt a soft hand on his cheek. He looked to see her face inching towards his, eyes half closed.

England was so surprised and flustered that he quickly dropped her to the ground. He looked away, his face feeling as hot as a furnace. He was about to walk away when he heard sniffling. He glanced back at Seychelles. She was still on the ground, legs stretched out in front of her. Her brow was furrowed and she was biting her lip.

England sighed and slowly turned around. He put a hand on her shoulder and she slightly tilted her face up to meet his eyes. Her sad expression broke his heart. He groaned and put his head in his hands.

" Look, I'm sorry. That was a very ungentlemanly thing to do. You may sit wherever you want, so long as you don't bother me while I'm working. Please just stop making such unpleasant faces. This house is already depressing enough as it is. You're the only happy thing here..." he mumbled, blushing madly as he gripped her small, tan hand in his and helped her up.

England suddenly felt her small arms wrap tightly around his middle. He looked down to see Seychelles hugging his waist, her bright face buried into his sweater-vest.

"You can be such a bastard... But sometimes, you're really nice. Those are the times I realize how much I really like you, Arthur," she grinned wiping her moist eyes with her tiny wrist. She gazed up at him with a giddy smile before skipping away.

England was truly taken aback. Not only had she called him by his given name, which people rarely did, she had also admitted that she was fond of him.

He snuck a glance at the stupid book she had left behind. If these books were giving her romantic fancies, he might have to get rid of them, if only to avoid further embarrassment.

England sighed, long and deep. There was no way he would ever understand girls, especially not eccentric ones like Seychelles.

* * *

Omg guys, look what I found! It's a random Hetalia story I wrote in 7th grade. Okay, that probably sucked, but if you actually made it this far, you might as well leave me a comment :)

Have a nice day/evening!


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